


Starless

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Keith's not 12 he's 14-15), (he doesn't show up but i'm covering all my bases), Bruises, Bullying, Cat Ears, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Krolia as a bad mom (sorry), Kuro is a creep, Loveless AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Shiro as Seimei, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, dark!Kuro, dark!shiro, keith as ritsuka, kuro as soubi, might make a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: “We heard some things, crazy Keith,” one of them says, a boy of brown hair and sharp, eager cat ears. “About your dead brother.”
Relationships: (or is it lmao), Implied Keith/Shiro, implied Keith/Kuro, implied Kuro/Shiro, onesided Keith/Kuro
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Starless

**Author's Note:**

> might reference some spoilery things in the Loveless manga tho 
> 
> reading it is not necessary imo, but I'm also not explaining much of the terms etc. 
> 
> I only wrote this because this thought wouldn't leave me alone. Don't @ me if you ignore the tags and then comment some bullshit. Loveless is a fucked up manga and nothing in this fic is meant to be portrayed as romantic. Keith, like Ritsuka, is a teen trapped in a fucked up situation, manipulated by every single adult around him and Ritsuka canonically has mental health issues due to his unstable upbringing. 
> 
> So read on with this and the tags in mind.

_ These are the things Keith Shirogane knows at the age of twelve:  _

That despite the death of his father, he still has his mother and his brother. The house is still alive, and Keith can still smile. 

That Takashi Shirogane, affectionately known as Shiro, is the most important person in Keith’s life. Shiro is five years older, so tall and so strong that Keith has to crane his neck to look up at him. Shiro knows all there is to know about the stars. Shiro knows all there is to know about life and death. Shiro’s hugs are warm. 

That not everything is alright with Krolia Shirogane, but Keith doesn’t know how to help his mother. She used to be so tall, so strong, so protective of her two kids, she used to laugh in her husband’s shoulder and burn with such bright inner fire that it felt like nothing could hold her down. Now she has days, when she speaks not a single word. Days, when she takes a belt, or her hand, or anything she can get her hands on to hit Keith. 

Most of the time, thankfully, Shiro is there to stop her, to take her out of the room and pull her into his room. Once, only once, Keith pressed his ear to the door and listened to the smooth rumble of Shiro’s voice, telling Krolia to calm down. 

  
  


It doesn’t cross Keith’s mind then, that it’s strange for Shiro to not call her mother. 

  
  


_ These are the things Keith Shirogane knows by the age of fourteen:  _

  
  


That the house of Shirogane is no longer a place for the living. 

That someone tied up Takashi Shirogane, gagged him, and burned him alive on Keith’s seat at his school. 

That Krolia’s grief has taken a turn for the worst and she no longer recognizes Keith as her own. Often, she shouts and sobs and throws things, claims that Keith is an imposter, someone who took away the original Keith, took away her beloved Shiro, her beloved boys and left this wilted, tired little boy in their wake. 

At the age of fourteen, Keith has seen two funerals and four hospitals. He’s sat down with his psychiatrist for a year now, never speaking a word. Each time she welcomes him with a warm voice, each time she speaks when Keith doesn’t. Each time she says something that is supposed to make Keith feel better, but instead makes him remember just how abnormal he is: how there is a black hole inside his brain, how he was someone else once, a kid who was happy and loved and could love in return. 

He feels bigger, older than his slender, fragile teenaged body. 

His brother understood. Shiro always knew what to say, what to do. Missing him is a constant, an ache in Keith’s growing limbs. 

  
  
  


He goes to school. He goes back home. He goes to school. He goes back home. He endures his mother’s ever-changing moods, her pleas for his attention, her screams when he closes his door in front of her face. 

Keith is empty, carved hollow by grief too big for a mere lonely boy to handle. He snaps back at teachers, punches a bully, pushes away the boy crushing on him. Whatever friends he’s had, they’ve drifted off to their own friends groups, leaving him be. 

  
  


He goes to school. He goes back home. His furry black tail swishes from side to side, nervously. His large, fluffy ears twitch, betraying his feelings. Sometimes he wishes he could just, snap them off, rip out his tail, be like the adults without cat ears, without a cat tail to sabotage their daily lives. 

Maybe he’ll be like his timid teacher, an adult with them, her cat ears always drooping, always bullied by Keith’s classmates. 

  
  
  


Maybe no one will ever - 

  
  


Keith shouldn’t entertain such thoughts. What does he need love and affection for anyway? It all died when Shiro died and abandoned Keith to an unstable mother and a home made of broken glass. 

It is an ordinary day, the day the tediousness of Keith’s life changes. He’s two weeks away from his fifteenth birthday, a birthday he figured he wouldn’t even get to see. Depression coils inside him like a black snake, wrapping around his throat and squeezing. Grabbing a quick breakfast in the form of toast, he sneaks past his sleeping mother and heads to school. 

Friends meeting friends, chattering and playing and being so utterly, painfully childish. One of those bullies, those little boys with nothing better to do than insult and live in violence, calls Keith crazy, as weird and strange as his strange mother. 

Today, there is something different in those voices. Usually Keith would let them say what they want, his mother is strange and weird, and Keith is well aware he is strange himself. 

But today: 

“We heard some things, crazy Keith,” one of them says, a boy of brown hair and sharp, eager cat ears. “About your dead brother.”

“Dead brother, dead brother, dead brother!”

“We heard some things about you, crazy Keith,” says another. 

Keith’s ears turn back. His shoulders slump. “Leave me alone.” His nails dig into the surface of his desk. “And leave Shiro out of this.” Shiro was perfect. Kind, loving, gentle Shiro. 

The jeers of his classmates turn more evil, sharper. “No wonder your mama’s gone mad, didn’t she see you kiss your own brother!” A resounding chorus of ew, of jabs to Keith’s arms. Someone pulls on his ear and he winces, hisses, jumps up. Cheeks flaming red.

“My mom is - she’s just sick!”

“Sick in the head! Like you! Like your crazy brother!”

Keith shivers, heart racing, his shoulders and fists raised. “Shiro wasn’t crazy! Shiro was perfect!” Uninvited, anxiety becomes a fist around his heart, his throat. “I - I didn’t - he wouldn’t!”

“Like you didn’t wanna lose your ears to your own brother, you weirdo,” they sneer. They become a faceless group, eager to shove their own insecurities, their own little teenage problems on him, on this little brother of a murdered big brother, of an unstable, helpless mother. 

“T-that’s ! I didn’t!” It’s wrong, it’s right, nothing is alright, because Shiro is gone forever anyway and whoever Keith was before, is gone too. 

“Crazy mom, crazy Keith, crazy mom, crazy Keith - !”

The closest one Keith reaches for and grabs, swings his uncoordinated fist and catches the boy in his cheek. His tears he pushes back, chews his lip, forces himself to not think of the ever-present hollowness inside, instead thinks of his dead brother’s honour, his crazy mother’s honour. 

It takes the teacher and a few of the more sensible students to pull Keith off this classmate, Keith’s knuckles bloodied, another scratch on his face to add to the ones his mother has given him. All their words mean nothing, murmurs and gasps, hands all over him, arm around his waist, pulling him off, off, away. 

It all means nothing. 

“You’re suspended,” the teacher says, her ears drooped, her lip wibbling. “It’s not right. I know you’re hurting, but - “

“As if you care,” Keith murmurs and leaves. 

  
  
  


The school yard is empty when Keith gets there, the first hints of autumn tickling his cheeks, making the leaves on the trees blush. Keith’s shoulders are hunched, his grip tight on the strap of his bag. His tail swishes angrily behind him. 

He is so focused on walking, that he doesn’t notice he isn’t entirely alone. There is someone leaning against the side of the school gate, tall, broad-shouldered, imposing. 

“What’s the hurry, kiddo?” 

Keith’s steps slow, stop. He glances to his side.

Oh. It’s an adult. Not even an adult like the teachers at Keith’s school: the ones in beige clothes, the ones in stable marriages, only losing their ears after stable, constant relationships, to people they love. This guy, because it’s a man, broad-shouldered and impossibly tall, steps closer. He lowers his sunglasses and smiles. 

His jawline is distressingly similar to - 

Keith’s heart stutters. “Why do you look like - “ 

The guy’s pitch-black hair is in a bun, white fur around the collar of his jacket. He is so effortlessly cool, so casual about hanging outside of a school, that Keith doesn’t quite understand. Keith grits his teeth. “Why are you talking to me?” 

The guy grins, something feral on the sharpness of his teeth. He reaches to ruffle Keith’s hair. “Because your brother told me to.” 

Keith’s ears twitch, raise up. “Shiro… ? You knew Shiro?” One hesitant step towards this guy. Keith tugs on his hair, trying to smooth it back down. He hasn’t felt like cutting it ever since Shiro’s death. 

“I knew him. And through him, I know you, Keith,” the guy purrs. He has the same jawline as Shiro, the same straight nose, even similar eyes. But - Shiro never looked at Keith like this, Shiro never wore his hair long. 

And Shiro had his ears: silky smooth black cat ears, as vigilant and eager as Keith’s own. 

Keith’s cheeks feel warm. He takes the stranger’s hand, uncertain, but curious. “How did you know Shiro? When did you know Shiro? What’s your name?”

The stranger laughs. “Let’s go for a walk first, kitten. You can call me Kuro.” A row of piercings glimmers in Kuro’s left ear. One glimmers on his thick eyebrow. His hand is very warm. 

Keith’s nose wrinkles. “Kuro?” He curls his fingers around Kuro’s, marvels at how much bigger Kuro’s hand is. Shiro’s hands were bigger than Keith’s own too. But Shiro had been almost an adult when he - 

Kuro laughs, more melodious than expected. “A nickname, kitten. You’ll find that I like nicknames. Now, about your questions - why don’t we head to the park first?” 

“Why can’t you tell me now,” Keith huffs and tugs on Kuro’s hand. 

“Maybe I want to see the park,” Kuro says, cheerful. Wind whips his fringe, pulls some strands out of his bun. “Shiro always talked about you, you know. His adorable little brother. Precious Keith. Perfect Keith.” Kuro tugs Keith onwards, out of the street, to the park, just a block away from school. “You might - you might call me Shiro’s best friend. Of sorts.”

Keith’s tail swishes, more nervously. “Of sorts? You’re weird.” But he doesn’t try to tug his hand free and follows this strange adult to the park. After all, what’s the harm? It’s the middle of the day. This person knew Shiro. Even looks like Shiro, eerily so. 

“I’ve been called worse,” murmurs Kuro. He takes them to the picnic table, under one of the large maple trees. A few leaves fall, brushing Keith’s cat ears while they go. He leans forward once he sits, ears pointed forward. 

“So? Tell me! How did you know Shiro? When did you know Shiro? Why didn’t he ever tell me he had an, an adult friend!”

Kuro smiles and leans forward too. “Your brother had a lot of secrets, cute Keith.” Kuro pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You are so young, so ignorant. Of course he didn’t share them all with you.”

Keith’s jaw tightens, frown deepens. “What secrets? Why would Shiro hide things from me?” The ground has been unsteady under Keith’s feet for so long now. One more push, and he might fall into a deep, dark pit he doesn’t know how to climb out of. 

Kuro still smiles. His hands, clasped on the table, unfurl. He takes one of Keith’s hands between his own, brings it to his lips.

Keith freezes. 

Kuro’s lips linger. His eyes are suddenly dark. “I’ll stay by your side, Keith Shirogane. Something is coming for you. I’ll protect you. I’m yours, body and soul.” 

Keith tugs on his hand, but finds it’s held firmly, against those lips, against that ruinous mouth. “What are you talking about?” 

“All yours, Keith. I am yours to command, body and soul.” Kuro doesn’t release Keith’s hand, but instead tugs him, closer, closer, until Kuro kisses him on his slack mouth, eyes night-dark and teeth sharp. 

“W-what’s wrong with you, weirdo!” Keith struggles, lips tingling, body tense. His hand is released, so he stumbles to his feet. His face is blazing hot, the fur of his ears and tail bristling. “You can’t - y-you can’t just go kissing people!” He wipes his mouth quickly, stumbles a few steps away when Kuro circles the table. 

“But it is what I am,” Kuro murmurs. His eyes betray nothing of what he is feeling. Without cat ears, without a cat tail, Keith can’t tell what Kuro is feeling at all. “I am yours. I should have been with you earlier, way earlier. But it is what your brother would have wanted. I know what your mother is doing to you.” 

Kuro takes a step onwards.

Keith takes one backwards. “She - she’s just sick, she doesn’t know what she’s saying or doing, she needs help - “ the partly healed scratches on his face still hurt. His knuckles, unbandaged, cleaned of blood, ache. 

“Do you need her, truly?” 

Keith lifts his hands. “Of course I - “ he’s thought of it before: what if it was just him and Shiro, no broken-hearted mother, no necessity to lock himself in his room?

Kuro smiles, almost gentle like Shiro. “Your brother wants you safe. All he does is want you to be safe. And good. Are you going to be a good boy and listen, Keith? Are you going to accept me?” Kuro slips a finger under the black collar around his neck. It’s like something wielded to his skin, tight and pitch-black. 

“What - who even are you!” Curiousity wars with uncertainty. Keith’s been alone for so long. The fight with his classmates still burns in his bones.

Kuro gets on his knees. He grabs Keith’s hand again, again kisses it, the tip of his tongue flicking over aching red knuckles. “Did you ever not want a knight? To be one yourself? Shiro told me all about you.” 

Keith tugs on his hand, but Kuro’s grip remains. “Did he?” His brother, his beloved big brother. 

“You’re just as cute as he said,” Kuro murmurs. “Little kitten. Oh, the things you will face.” He takes a deep breath. “But I am yours now, yours to command, yours to own.”

Keith’s fingers curl into a fist, he tugs harder. “What - people are not property!”

Kuro smiles, deceitfully sweet. “That’s where you are wrong, kiddo. I am.”

  
  
  


Then the day turns cold. Wind turns to a hurricane. The attack comes, so sudden and noisy, that Keith finds himself huddling closer to Kuro’s broad presence. He doesn’t even protest when pulled under Kuro’s arm, under his long black jacket. 

The attackers seem to be boys like Keith, cat eared and small, but with the ferocity of ancient warriors. They speak words of pain and rage, but Kuro merely smiles and speaks words of his own in return. 

“I am with who I belong to. I am Kurogane, I have no other name other than that. Except the one my Sacrifice gave to me: Starless. So, Keith Shirogane, my Sacrifice, my master. Give me an order.”

So Keith does, confused, frustrated, fingers tightly curled around Kuro’s wrist. 

There is a name carved on the skin of Kuro’s chest, now bared by his open shirt: Starless, surrounded by barbed wire, deep scars left by claws or knives. 

  
  
  


So they fight: with words, sharp as knives, as glass shards that rain on Keith and Kuro, Keith’s lithe little form protected by Kuro’s broad body. Despite the wounds and bruises left on Kuro afterwards, the attacking cat boys scattered to the four winds, Kuro merely smiles.

“It is all worth it. After all, I am your Fighter, kitten.” He ruffles Keith’s hair. “You and your brother are so different. He was never as adorable as you.”

The world of adults is truly strange - but even stranger is the world of mysteries that Kuro pulls Keith into. The ground underneath Keith’s feet is getting unsteadier. 

  
  


A Sacrifice. A life he knew nothing about. All the secrets his beloved big brother hid. Kuro, who holds Keith closed and looks at him like nobody should look at Keith at this age. Kuro, from whose lips spill lies. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ These are the things Keith Shirogane doesn’t know about: _

That the body burned on his seat, on the worst day of his life, was not the body of Takashi Shirogane. 

That Kuro’s existence is a secret of its own, held only by the dead and the gone. 

That the name burned into Kuro’s chest, Starless, is not his true name, but it is something else, hidden inside of his blackened heart. 

  
  



End file.
